


It's About the Giving

by sara_holmes



Series: Millennial Love (and other near death experiences) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday Presents, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Clint Barton is a good boyfriend, Do not post to other sites, Drinking, M/M, Millennial Bucky Strikes Again, a0, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27563428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: It's Bucky's birthday soon and Clint takes it as an opportunity to prove that he can be a good boyfriend for once.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Millennial Love (and other near death experiences) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1887952
Comments: 72
Kudos: 506





	It's About the Giving

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> The giving of gifts, you filthy minded individuals. 
> 
> This is a fic for the birthday of my dear CB. Her birthday was mumble mumble ago but she knows I am a time challenged individual and will not judge me for being late, so neither should you.
> 
> Canon Bucky's birthday is in March. I moved it because I do what I want.

Clint is only half awake, staring at but not really seeing Steve's _'come on guys, there are official channels for requisitioning SHIELD agents you cannot just keep stealing them while they're on coffee breaks'_ presentation. It's twenty-five slides of aggressively highlighted examples of paperwork and thinly veiled threats, and enough to put the most hardened agents into a stupor. But Clint is a good Avenger and a good friend, so he’s here, his eyes are open and he's nodding in what he thinks are the right places. He's about three-quarters asleep when Steve segues into his _'I know you pay for half of SHIELD you still can't just take my cyber tech team to Vermont because you feel like it, mentioning no names, Tony,'_ rant and as such almost misses the point where Steve goes, "Fine, whatever, any other business?" 

Everyone is half out of their chairs when Clint's brain clunks back online and he goes, "Yes! Business! I have some!" 

Everyone groans and slumps back into their seats. Natasha shoots Clint a venomous look that makes him glad there's a holo-table between them. 

"God damn it, Clint," Tony says, scowling. "We were so close to freedom and now look what you've done."

"Twenty-five slides," Sam mutters darkly, casting a longing look through the glass walls of the meeting room to where the TV is still talking to itself down on the communal floor, showing highlights from the football. "Barton, this better be good."

"Hey," Steve frowns, looking slightly insulted. "It was only four slides last time but apparently you guys don't listen."

"I listen,” Thor says, sounding offended. “Stark is the one who keeps taking your agents.” 

"Yeah, Stark," Bruce says and Tony blows him a kiss. 

Steve glares at them. "Well if he keeps doing it I'm going to stretch it to fifty slides. Don't try me, I will."

"You're a sadist," Tony informs him. 

"He's most definitely becoming a super-villain," Thor agrees. "I want the first shot if we have to take him down."

"Hulk hates your PowerPoint presentations, just so you know," Bruce says, completely straight-faced. 

"I was done, it's Clint who's holding us up," Steve says in exasperation, slamming his laptop lid shut and cursing as it cracks. "Shit, not _again._ "

"It’ll only take a minute, I swear," Clint says hastily. "I need help."

"Oh man, what have you done?" Sam asks, still leaning back on his chair and trying to peer at the TV. "I am not fighting the Russian mafia for you again, not two weekends in a row. Did you see the headlines? Captain America crushes Commies? I’m not accidentally starting another Cold War because you can’t keep your ass out of trouble for five minutes."

"No, nothing like that," Clint says, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table in a slightly-nervous tell. "This is, uh, off the record. I'm asking as friends."

Steve grimaces. "Do I need to leave? I'd like to at least have plausible deniability."

"No!" Clint insists. "Why do you guys always think the worst of me? Don’t answer that-” he adds loudly as Nat and Tony both open their mouths. “It’s just a thing - it's Bucky's birthday next month and I have no idea what to get him."

Thor looks at him, nonplussed. “Who is Bucky?”

“My boyfriend! You’ve literally met him!”

“Oh yes,” Thor says. “The tiny angry one with the good taste in clothes?” Steve snorts with laughter at that, immediately pulling his phone out. Clint still thinks it's a little weird that Steve texts Bucky more than he does, but he's learning to live with it. 

Tony snorts too, but his sounds less amused. “I gave that brat a whole new arm and he called my goatee a relic from the noughties. He'll be lucky to get a paperclip from me in the future."

"You've got a month, don't sweat it," Sam shrugs. 

“You've never cared about anyone's birthday before,” Nat says. “Usually it's a box of candy and a coupon for special birthday sex.” 

Clint stares at her, refusing to be embarrassed. “Oh, he’s getting the coupon but that’s going in his card. I need a gift.”

“Gah,” Steve says, sticking his fingers in his ears and standing up. “I'm excusing myself from this.” 

“Prude,” Tony and Clint both say.

“ _Plausible deniability,_ ” Steve says. “I want to carry on pretending he got clipped by a cab or something next time he comes into the office limping.” 

“And that's even without the coupon experience,” Clint says, and Thor laughs and holds his hand up for a high-five. 

Steve sighs. “I should have got him a ‘sorry your boyfriend is an idiot’ gift instead of a birthday gift.”

Clint stops joking around, suddenly alarmed. “Wait, did you get him something?” 

“Yep, I got him a new pair of those dumb ADIDAS originals that he’s been crying over and I paid his Netflix subscription for the year.”

“No!” Clint says, appalled. “You can't out-gift me, he's my boyfriend!”

“He's my best friend,” Steve says, and Tony and Sam both make outraged and disbelieving noises. “I'm not gonna give him a bad gift just because you're incompetent.” 

Clint rears back. “Wow, rude.”

Steve has the good grace to look a little sorry. “Not as an Avenger, just as a boyfriend.”

Clint throws his hands up. “Still rude!"

“Okay, this isn’t anything I’m going to be good at,” Bruce says apologetically. He stands up and starts edging towards the door. “Good luck, Clint.”

“Birthday sex is probably your best option,” Thor says, getting up too. “At least Rogers won’t out-do you there. Unless their friendship is more intimate than he's letting on.”

"It is not," Steve says firmly, packing his broken laptop away like he’s about to ditch Clint too. Sam is already gone, all but sprinting down the stairs and cursing Steve for scheduling meetings when there's important games happening, dammit. 

“You'll figure it out,” Natasha says, patting Clint’s shoulder. “You’ve been dating over a month, now? Surely you know him well enough to think of something.”

Clint sits there as the rest of the team all head for the door, chatting about training schedules and meeting timetables and getting lunch from the new sushi place a couple of blocks over. “Thanks guys, you were no help whatsoever.”

“You’re welcome!” Tony shouts back and Clint gives up.

* * *

“Hey!”

His annoyance at his useless friends is forgotten when he gets off the subway and finds Bucky waiting for him, standing there in the cold with a scarf wrapped tightly around his face. His hair is tumbling untidily over his brow and Clint wants to run his fingers through it. He knows from experience though that messing with Bucky’s hair while they’re out in public is Not Allowed. 

“Hey,” he replies, smiling tiredly and leaning down to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheekbone, which is pretty much the only bit of him he can get at. “Thought we were meeting at yours?”

“Wanted to wait for you,” Bucky says, muffled through the thick wool of his scarf. His eyes are bright and Clint is never ever going to get bored of having them look his way. He’d write poetry about Bucky’s eyes if he was any good at poems and stuff, but as it stands he barely scraped through the language component of his GED and probably wouldn’t know good poetry if it hit him in the face. He’d ask Natasha to write one for him if he didn't think she’d mercilessly tease him for it. 

“Good day?”

“Steve is a cruel man armed with PowerPoint,” Clint says and Bucky laughs. 

“I talked him down from giving you all a pop-quiz, you’re welcome. Come on, let’s go.” 

“This is why I love you,” Clint says, slinging his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and steering them in the direction of the apartment Bucky shares with his sister. “Is Becca in this evening?”

“No, she’s out with Jared,” Bucky says, pulling a face. “She has terrible taste in men.”

“Still don’t like him, huh?”

“Nope."

"Why, because he never learned how to fucking read?" 

Bucky throws his head back and cackles. "I wish," he says once his laughter has subsided. "He's the insufferable one who thinks he's smarter than everyone else. I swear, he puts one toe out of line and I’m gonna set Steve on him."

“I’ll do it,” Clint volunteers. Honestly, he’d do pretty much anything to keep Bucky happy. “I’m as good as Steve at threatening douchebags. Better, even. I’ve been in jail.”

Bucky almost trips up the kerb. Clint grabs his arm to stop him face-planting the sidewalk; the guy behind them sighs explosively at the two second hold up and makes a huge deal out of walking around them, power-walking away. Bucky ignores him, twisting around to gape at Clint instead. “You what? You have _not_.”

“Okay I forgot you didn’t know that,” Clint says, scratching the back of his head. “In my defence it was a long time ago and was probably fifty percent my brother’s fault anyway.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “I feel like I should know things like that,” he says, and he sounds honest to god hurt. He looks away, tugging his coat tight around him and folding his arms over his chest.

Clint stomach drops like an elevator with the cables cut. Fuck, he and Bucky have only been dating a month and this is already the _second_ time he's screwed up. He can almost hear the echoes of his exes ringing in his ears, berating him for his terrible communication, for being either too cavalier or too intense. It's a balancing act he never quite got the hang of, but Bucky makes him want to try.

Hell, he wouldn't have resorted to asking his dumb friends for help with a birthday gift if he wasn't determined to make this one stick. 

Clint realises he’s been quiet for far too long, racking his brains to try and think of a way out of this mess. Luckily for him, Bucky’s attention span is unreliable at best and he lets it go with a huff.

“Whatever. No more going to jail. Our schedules keep us apart enough as it is.”

“Speaking of stupid schedules,” Clint says, veering away from his faux-pas while Bucky’s given him a chance. “You know I’ve got to go to Boston this weekend? I’m ribbon-cutting on a new youth shelter.”

“I know,” Bucky says glumly, trying to burrow into Clint’s side. It’s making walking more difficult than it needs to be, to be honest, but it’s also cute. “I’ve got like four maintenance appointments anyway.”

Clint makes a sympathetic noise and kisses Bucky’s temple again. “That sucks.”

“Yeah it does,” Bucky says, and then rants about just how much it sucks for the rest of the journey home. As well as being glad that he's off the hook, Clint actually finds it oddly endearing. He's glad that he can be there for Bucky to vent to, though to be honest his attention is split between listening to him and staring at him and admiring; Bucky’s an absolute firecracker with a heart of gold, and Clint can’t quite believe that what started off as some harmless flirting has ended up here.

Bucky’s rant ends just as Clint is hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots. Clint notices that he’s gone quiet and turns to face him, just in time to catch his aggrieved expression before Bucky says, “I can’t believe I didn’t know you’d been in jail!”

Shit. Not as off the hook as he thought. Clint frowns. “It never came up. I wasn’t going to introduce myself like hi, I think you’re hot, by the way I’m an Avenger and a convicted felon?”

Bucky makes an aggravated noise and throws himself onto the couch, clenching and unclenching his metal fingers like he does when he’s stressed. So fucking dramatic, honestly. “I just feel like we don’t know each other very well some days,” he says into a throw pillow. 

Clint rolls his eyes and goes to sit next to his feet, rubbing the cold denim over his calves. “We’ve only been dating a couple of months. We’ve got years to get to know all the ins and outs.”

“You being in jail is bigger than an in and out,” Bucky grouches, then bright grey eyes peek over the top of the cushion. “Years?”

“I guess, if you don’t get sick of me,” Clint shrugs, smiling weakly. Judging by the look on Bucky's face, he's actually managed to dig himself out of the hole he'd started, though he's not entirely sure how. Whatever, he'll take it. 

“C’mere,” Bucky says, rolling onto his back and pulling Clint in, looping his arms around his neck. “I like you for years,” he says with that terrifying sincerity that he likes to throw out without warning. “Now you can make it up to me with lots of dick please."

“Make it up to you?" Clint echoes indignantly. "I didn’t do anything wrong!"

Bucky’s fingers are already pulling at Clint's belt buckle. Thankfully they’re the real ones; Clint doesn’t mind the metal ones but he’s sometimes a bit wary of them being near his junk. “You did, you kept your tragic backstory from me," Bucky says. "Makes me feel like you don't even like me. Look, look how sad I am."

"You're the worst," Clint informs him. "I'm gonna tell everyone that you're the worst."

"They'll never believe you," Bucky says happily, and reels Clint back in for a kiss. 

* * *

They're redressed and grinning at each other like idiots by the time Becca comes home. She slams the door, takes one look at them curled up on the couch together and says, “Ugh.”

“Nice to see you too,” Bucky says.

“You’re both sickening,” Becca says, slinging her backpack down and kicking her shoes off. They hit the wall with twin thuds; Clint cranes his head round to see if it left a mark so that they can give her grief about busting up the walls for once. “And not in the good way,” she adds even as Bucky opens his mouth. “Wipe those mushy heart-eyes off your faces, I swear to god you’re gross.”

“Good day?” Bucky asks, amused.

“I got puked on ten minutes into my shift,” Becca says, marching over to the fridge with a determination eerily reminiscent of Steve. “I can’t wait for this rotation to be over.”

“I can’t wait either, then maybe you’ll stop complaining,” Bucky says and Becca shoots him a withering look, though the effect is undermined by the fact she’s got what looks like half a block of cheese sticking out of her mouth. Clint’s amused and also vaguely wistful; he and Barney never had a relationship where sibling banter and bickering came easy, let alone one where they could be actual healthy emotional support for each other. He and Barney teamed up out of necessity, were there for each other for survival. It’s nothing like this. 

“So Bucky,” Becca says, retreating out of the fridge with her arms full: Clint spies a bowl full of Spaghetti bolognese, a tub of jalapeno cheese dip and a bottle of ketchup. “You know you’ve actually got friends now?”

Bucky scowls at her, turning the TV volume up.

She bangs the bowl of spaghetti onto the counter and Clint watches in horrified fascination as she spoons an obscene amount of cheese dip into it, followed by a healthy squirt of ketchup. “I meant it in a good way,” Becca insists. “I just meant that it’s nearly your birthday and we should do something.”

Clint is sufficiently distracted from Becca’s gross spaghetti concoction by the mention of Bucky's birthday. He turns to look at Bucky so quickly that his neck clicks but Bucky doesn’t seem very forthcoming about birthday ideas. In fact, he seems reluctant to talk about it, shrugging and looking down at his hands. His metal fingers flex. “I dunno.”

“We’re doing it,” Becca declares as she returns to the fridge and comes back with a bottle of sprite. Thank god, Clint was half expecting more condiments. “Right, Clint?”

“Sure,” Clint says. “What is _it,_ exactly?”

“I don’t know. A party. Something.”

Clint looks around dubiously. The Barneses’ apartment is comfortable and nicely decorated and feels like a home away from home for him, but it’s not exactly got room to swing a cat around. “Here?”

“No, you two have damaged my apartment enough without having Bucky’s drunk friends smashing the place up,” she says, and ignores the indignant noise of denial that Bucky makes. 

“It was _three holes_ , we didn’t smash the place up-” 

Becca carries on like Bucky never spoke. “Clint, could we use your place?”

Clint wishes he could say yes because then that could be part of his gift for Bucky; hosting him a kick-ass party. “No,” he says, thinking of his bows and all of his arrows, the scattered files and pieces of intel he has in his apartment. “Sorry, Avenger security and stuff.”

Becca hums. “Oh yeah, I forgot you’re an Avenger.”

It’s Clint’s turn to make an indignant noise. Bucky just cackles, throwing his head back and laughing. 

“Not like that,” Becca says. “It’s just when you’re here hanging out you don’t seem like an Avenger. You’re just my dumb brother’s boyfriend, you know?”

“I am here,” Bucky says petulantly. “Stop talking about me.”

“Fine, I’ll stop trying to plan you a party.”

“I don’t know if I want a party,” Bucky says, grimacing like it’s hurting him to say it. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.”

“We can try? Just a few friends. Me, Clint, Steve, those cyber nerds that you hang out with? You can handle five people.”

There’s a long pause. “And Emilia from the cafeteria,” Bucky says.

Becca beams. “Deal,” she says. “Clint, are you guys scheduled to do any Avengering on...” she checks the calendar on her phone. “Next Friday night?”

Clint wriggles to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the wince Bucky gives at the sight of the flip phone. “Nothing planned,” he says. “Though if there’s an Assemble, we’ll have to go.”

“That’s good enough,” Becca says. “This counts as half your present by the way, Bucket.”

Clint doesn’t miss Bucky’s small smile, and while he’s happy that Becca’s doing something nice for her brother, he can't help but think great, that’s another person out-gifting him. Goddamnit. 

* * *

That night, when Bucky is tucked into his side and snoring lightly, Clint lies there flicking through Etsy on his phone and wondering if anything is good enough as a gift for Bucky. He googles _‘gifts for your millennial boyfriend’_ and sighs when the best suggestion it can offer is a weighted blanket. Which admittedly is a great idea but Clint can't shake the memory of Bucky's voice saying, _'makes me feel like you don't even like me'_ because he knows it was a joke, but also knows that Bucky's deprecating humour sometimes hides real Feelings. 

He needs something big. Something awesome. And seeing as Steve has very firmly told him that he's not allowed to propose yet, he's got two weeks to think of something awesome. 

He's doomed. 

* * *

Bucky kicks him out of bed at the usual godforsaken hour, which is approximately two hours earlier than Clint usually crawls his way out of bed. He stumbles through morning routine and only really wakes up when he’s on the subway en route to Avengers tower. He spends a couple of hours on the range, then decamps to the communal floor to eat all of Tony Stark's food, snarfing down three muffins while he half-heartedly attempts to fill in his latest mission report. He’s contemplating just writing _'I beat up the bad guys and took their AKs away what else do you want to know'_ and going home when his phone pings with a reminder that he’s supposed to be training SHIELD agents after lunch. That cheers him right up, because if there’s one thing he loves more than antagonising Steve’s itty bitty SHIELD trainees, it’s having an excuse to go and see Bucky while he’s working.

Clint knows he's got it bad for Bucky but nothing really highlights it more than the fact he finds getting through New SHIELD's insane security measures not as tedious when he knows that there's a Bucky on the other side of them. In fact, he's got a whole new appreciation for security since the Crossbones debacle; anything that's going to keep assholes like that away from Bucky is a win in Clint's eyes. Well, anything that keeps assholes away from Bucky and the huge amounts of weapons, intel and serious shit that Steve has managed to accumulate in his short tenure as Commander.

ID checked and fingerprints verified, Clint gamely hands over his bow to be put through the scanners. Enola eyes him warily as she takes it from him but he just grins and winks, making her blush. Callum just rolls his eyes at him, gesturing impatiently for Clint to hand over his quiver. Once he’s finally rekitted and deemed secure enough to enter the actual inner sanctum, he finds he’s still got around fifty minutes before he’s due on the range. He makes a teensy diversion to grab a coffee from the cafeteria and then heads up to the hub, hoping that Bucky is in the office and not off collecting Steve’s dry-cleaning or whatever else is in his job description.

Steve really needs to promote Bucky. He’s twice as capable as some of the trainees that Clint is trying to kick into shape and a better shot than most ranking agents. In Clint’s humble opinion, he’s wasted on answering emails and wrangling schedules. He strongly suspects that Maria would also like to poach Bucky and put him through aptitude testing, but Maria’s policy is pretty much _‘do not get involved in Steve’s personal business unless absolutely necessary’_ and seeing as Steve and Bucky are somehow BFF’s, she won’t make a move.

Maybe Clint should bring it up with Bucky, after he deals with the current clusterfuck that is trying to get him a birthday gift. 

Bucky spots him when he’s about halfway across the hub, waving through the glass walls of the office while sprawled back in his chair. He's chewing on a red vine and looks like he’s trying to stifle laughter, darting glances Steve’s way. Clint tries not to be jealous but come on; Steve is awesome and if he had an ounce of common sense about relationships he’d be more than capable of stealing someone’s boyfriend or girlfriend. 

Clint stops at the door, only because Steve actually listened to Bucky's suggestion and has had locks fitted to them which can only be opened from inside the office, to stop people coming in and bugging him when he's super busy. Steve's on the phone and looking either like he’s been shot or he’s having to be polite to the commissioner. Bucky is still biting back a grin, eyes dancing as he watches Clint approach. 

"Can I come in?" Clint mouths through the glass. Man, he really needs to get Bucky to learn sign if they're in this for the long haul. Bucky nods and hits the switch on his desk; the door unseals and Clint pushes in. 

“Whatever you’re doing, stop,” Steve is saying. “No, I don’t want a surprise, I want my quinjet fixed.” He glances up and waves at Clint, grimacing. 

"Stark," Bucky fills in with a fair amount of schadenfreude. Clint sympathy-grimaces right back at Cap. _Commander._ Ugh, whatever. He's never gonna get used to that. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, I don't - Tony. _Tony_. You have like ten million other things to be doing, I don't need - why do you need to know the square footage of my office?" 

Shaking his head, Clint props his bow up against Bucky’s desk and leans over it to kiss him hello, smiling against Bucky's mouth as Bucky literally preens. 

“Hey,” Steve says sharply from where he's still got the phone stuck to his ear. “You know the rule, take it elsewhere.”

Bucky stands up but Steve pins him with a glare. “It’s a figure of speech, Bucky, you’re working,” he says, attention still half on his phone. “Tony, _no_. What do you mean it won’t eat much? You work with tech, why are you now telling me something doesn’t eat much?”

“Okay that sounds bad?” Clint says, faintly alarmed. He knows that Tony is obsessed with Steve in a weird pulling-pigtails kind of way, but he's never sure if Tony's ideas to wind the man up will stay as ideas. They've only just stopped fighting about the 'upgrade' to Steve's tactical uniform that included an ab window and cleavage zipper. For ventilation, Tony had insisted. 

Bucky pulls a face in Steve's direction and grabs a sheaf of papers from his inbox. "Going to the copier," he calls and hustles Clint out of the room, waving goodbye to Steve who makes a narrow-eyed 'I'm watching you' gesture back. 

"What a loser," Bucky says affectionately, slipping his metal fingers through Clint's, towing him along towards the copy room. 

"He's going to kill Tony one of these days," Clint says, then recoils in horror as a thought occurs. "Or make us all sit through another PowerPoint."

“You are Earth's Mightiest Heroes, you should not be as intimidated by PowerPoint as you are," Bucky says. “But hey, you’re back! How was Boston?”

“Boston was okay,” Clint says. “I didn’t make an ass of myself or upset the PR team, so I think it was a win.”

“Good,” Bucky says, swiping his pass to get into the copy room and then nodding at the girl who is busy at the copier. “Hey Jade.”

“Bucky!” she exclaims, and then spots Clint and goes a deep, beet red. “Uh.”

“You okay?” Bucky asks. “How was your weekend?”

“Um,” Jade squeaks. She looks up at Clint then down at Bucky and goes impossibly redder. Bucky just smiles at her, like he's conversing with a friend and not a human tomato. 

"Hey, are you busy next Friday? It's my birthday and-" 

"Yes!" Jade says, beaming. "I mean, no. I mean I'm not busy. Are you having a party?" 

"Just drinks with a few friends," Bucky says. "You, Kevin, Emilia maybe."

"That'd be amazing," Jade says. "I would love to. Count me in."

"Cool," Bucky says, and gestures to the copier. "Are you..?" 

"Oh, go ahead. I'm only copying posters for the cyber sec office. Someone spilt a coke all over Agent Miller’s station. It wrecked his laptop and the - well, the thing we were working on that I probably can't tell you about. So, you know. No drinks."

Bucky sides past her to shove a ream of paper into the copier, jabbing blithely at buttons until it hums into life. "Yeah, I did hear. Rogers just approved the budget request for a new laptop and the thing you can't talk about."

"Good," Jade says fervently. "We were worried he was going to say no and we'd have to like fundraise or something."

"Yeah I can really see the cyber sec team doing a bake sale,” Bucky snorts. “Or a car wash. I can see Kevin in Daisy Dukes.”

Clint swears he watches Jade’s eyes glaze over in real time. “I don’t think Toby would let us,” she says a little mournfully.

“Of course he wouldn’t, Toby ruins everything,” Clint says, and Jade snaps out of whatever daydream she’s in, blush returning again. 

“You just hate Toby because he won’t let you do whatever you want,” Bucky says a little tartly, then curses as his phone rings, blaring out Eye of the Tiger. “Come on, that’s Steve.” 

Clint cackles. “Good ringtone.”

“It’s both motivational, aspirational and dumb,” Bucky says, grabbing his copies and turning to go. “Bye, Jade.”

“Bye, Bucky! Bye Hawkeye! Nice to meet you!”

Clint waves at her over his shoulder. He doesn’t normally pay much attention to the interns or trainees or minions or whatever she is unless he’s yelling at them on the range or assault course, but she’s Bucky’s friend so he’ll play nice.

Bucky's tapping away on his phone, presumably texting Steve back. “Did I tell you she asked me out once?” 

Clint nearly trips over his own feet. “What?”

Bucky nods. “Just after the thing with Crossbones,” he says conversationally. “You’d gone to shoot bad guys on the lower deck and I was-”

“Flirting with the cyber-sec team?”

Bucky sends him an amused look. “Jealous?”

Clint scoffs. “Please. I’d like to see Jade pick you up and bang you against the wall.”

“Kevin probably could,” Bucky says slyly.

Clint scowls. “You want me to shoot Kevin? I’ll shoot Kevin.”

“Toby would make you fill in paperwork if you did,” Bucky says.

Clint reaches out and gives him a shove. “Stop trying to make me jealous. Dick move.”

Bucky does have the good grace to look a little abashed. “Sorry,” he says, and his phone beeps again. He looks at it and scowls. “Camille,” he says like it’s a dirty word. “Maria’s PA,” he adds when Clint looks nonplussed. “The one you didn’t sleep with.”

Clint's tempted to smack him upside the head for that one. “You really need to let that go,” he says. “If I had reservations about sleeping with people’s PA’s then I wouldn’t have slept with _you_.”

“Good point,” Bucky grins and then lets go of Clint, stepping away and almost immediately getting swept up in a gang of pilots that are heading towards the lower deck. “See you later,” he shouts.

Clint watches him go and then, with nothing better to do, heads back up to Steve’s office. He’s off his phone and is instead poring over a map that’s spread out over the floor, crouching down beside it. When Clint knocks he looks up, irritated, but when he sees Clint the frown vanishes and he hits the button on his own desk to buzz Clint in. 

“Come look at this,” he says the moment the door is shut behind him. 

“Have I got clearance?” Clint asks and crouches down next to Steve. It’s not a map, it’s a blueprint of what looks like a train station. 

Steve ignores him. “Say someone is going to try and get off a train here,” he says. “And my exits are here, here, here and here...then where would you put a pair of snipers?”

“I’d put me here and Bucky there,” Clint says, tapping the paper. “What?” he says at Steve’s exasperated look. “He’s wasted on photocopying.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Steve says, frowning at the plan like it's personally offended him. “He’s got pretty severe PTSD, and he’s not yet managing it well enough to clear the pysch eval. He’d cruise through the aptitude tests.”

Clint looks at him in surprise. “You’ve thought about it? 

“The kid has an exemplary military record and he took down Crossbones, of course I’ve thought about it,” Steve says. “You think I’m gonna keep him as my PA forever?”

“Yes, because you’re best friends and you won’t trust anyone else to be your PA.”

“As Bucky would say, that’s future Steve’s problem,” Steve says, and hands Clint a marker. “Sniper positions. Mark any you think are worth it.”

“You got it Cap,” Clint says, pulling the cap off with his teeth and spitting it out.

Steve rubs at his forehead. “ _Commander._ ”

“Whatever,” Clint says cheerfully, and starts adding purple X’s to the map. "You should promote Bucky for his birthday."

"One, I shouldn't really hand out promotions as birthday presents," Steve says, "And two, if I did, that'd technically be another gift for Bucky from _me._ " 

Clint looks faintly alarmed. "Yeah let's not do that. Let's talk about snipers."

Steve snorts. "Thought you might say that."

* * *

Clint doesn't have much time to worry about Steve getting Bucky more gifts, nor does he have time to sort a gift of his own. As the days steadily tick ever closer to Bucky’s birthday, the universe mocks him by suddenly giving him a fuck-ton of work obligations: he and Natasha are called away to spy on a warehouse in Vermont for three long boring days, though it is nice to catch up with Nat and gossip mercilessly about their co-workers. After that he gets called in as designated sniper on Steve’s train-station heist, working with Agent Hendricks who is a good shot but so, _so_ boring. It makes Clint wonder what it would be like to work alongside Bucky, if they’d make good teammates or not. 

The real time drain though is less exciting; somehow, two missions manage to quadruple the amount of outstanding paperwork he has. He spends literal hours stuck in Avengers Tower attempting to clear his backlog, eating pizza and trying to bribe Thor into doing some for him. The group chat is less than sympathetic - Sam and Nat seem to be in camp ' _you should have done the paperwork when it was due, if you say organised it's really not that bad'_ which is probably true but is maddeningly unhelpful. Steve texts back _'boo fucking hoo, do your job,'_ which is just rude. Tony just sends laughing emojis, the dick. 

Before he knows it, it's Friday night and he's trying to find a clean pair of jeans to wear to Bucky's mini-party because Bucky will _murder_ him if he turns up in sweats. The hunt for a clean and acceptable outfit makes him nearly half an hour late. Oh man, never mind Bucky, _Becca_ is going to kill him. He makes sure to text Bucky after he’s dropped Lucky off with his neighbor, a frantic ‘ _running late b there soon’_ as he’s running down the stairs. Bucky texts him back _‘use whole words you loser’_ and a whole bunch of kissy face emojis so Clint reckons he’s in the clear. 

He still feels like a terrible boyfriend when he arrives at the bar - the same bar that he took Bucky to all that time ago, their first not-date where Bucky got in a fight with a bunch of dumb homophobes - and everyone else is already there. They're all crowded into a booth: Bucky is wedged between Becca and Steve, picking at the label on a beer bottle. Jade is sitting opposite them, next to a tall guy wearing a backwards cap, and a girl that Bucky recognises from the cafeteria. There are gift bags on the table and Bucky is smiling but keeps checking his phone, looking at the screen every few seconds.

Worst boyfriend _ever._

At least he knows he’s the worst this time, so can take steps to rectifying it. Namely, by buying a round of drinks for everyone at the table. He gets in beers, a few shots and the most ostentatious cocktail that he can convince the bartender to make, and carries the tray over to the table himself.

“Clint!” Bucky is the first to spot him and practically jumps out of his seat, grinning from ear to ear. He shoves at Steve to try and get him to move but Steve just elbows him back, staying in place like two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle-stacked roadblock.

“Someone order drinks?” Clint grins, met with laughter and a scattered applause. “I got beer, I got vodka, and I got a birthday daiquiri.”

“You’re the best,” Bucky grins, accepting his drink with his metal hand, which Clint is oddly proud to note. “This better be full of rum, I want to be carried home tonight.”

“Messy bitch,” Becca says fondly, reaching over for a beer.

Steve looks at Clint as he takes a beer of his own. “Don’t look at me. You can carry him, he’s your boyfriend.”

Clint grins. “What’s the point in having a super soldier for a friend if you can’t get him to carry your ass home at the end of the night?” he says. “Now who wants shots?”

The drinks are passed around and he slides onto a stool at the end of the table. Bucky smiles at him so Clint decides fuck it and leans across Steve to kiss him. Steve endures it more or less patiently, leaning back out of the way and only looking slightly exasperated. Sitting back and taking stock of the bar, Clint resists the urge to fiddle with his hearing aids. There’s a lot of background noise in here - music, chatter, the clink of glasses and plates - and it’s difficult for him to parse through the layers. He’s gonna have to concentrate if he wants to follow the conversation, which he’s gonna have to do. Even he knows it’d be rude to not make an effort with his boyfriend’s friends. 

“I’m just saying,” Kevin says, his voice easier to pick out because of how deep it is. “My boss is white. Emilia’s boss is white. Bucky’s boss-”

“Mayonnaise,” Bucky says solemnly, and Jade chokes into her drink.

“You can’t just say that!” Emilia says, smacking Kevin’s arm. “He’s right there!” She shoots Steve a slightly awed look, like she’s still seeing him as commander Rogers and not just Steve. 

“No, I accept the charges,” Steve said, hands up. “Guess I need to do something about that, huh?”

“Guess you do,” Kevin says with a grin. 

“What have I walked into?” Clint asks Bucky, bemused. “Holding Steve accountable hour?”

“Every hour is holding Steve accountable hour,” Bucky says. “That’s what happens when you’re the big bossman.”

“That’s what _should_ happen when you’re the big bossman,” Becca adds. 

“Hear hear,” says Jade, and then winces, glancing sideways at Steve like he’s about to fire her on the spot. 

“Come on, I’m off the clock for once,” Steve protests. “Kevin, if you would like to meet on Monday then I’ll make time for you.”

“Really?” Kevin asks, sounding surprised.

“Yep,” Steve says. “Bucky’ll put you in my calendar when he’s sober enough to manage it. But for now, can we talk about something other than work?”

“Oh my god,” Clint says, getting his phone out.

“Don’t you dare,” Steve says, reaching over to snatch the phone away but Clint is quicker, leaning back and quickly texting the Avengers group chat saying _‘Steve just asked to stop talking about work i think he’s a skrull.’_ He snaps his phone shut and shoves it in his pocket with a grin. He’s already getting texts back; the rapid fire buzzing against his thigh makes him think that Tony’s got a lot of something to say.

“Steve has learned to try and achieve a healthy work life balance,” Bucky says with an assertive nod. The way he’s fighting back a grin shows what he thinks of Steve’s attempts to achieve a healthy work life balance.

“Pfft, work life balance, that’s impossible shit,” Becca says and Steve shoots her a grateful look. “I worked like fifty hours last week, and I had to study.”

“What do you do?” Kevin asks. 

“I’m a doctor,” Becca says. “Well, an intern.”

“A kick ass doctor,” Bucky says proudly. “I was her first patient, you know. I was like thirteen and fell out a tree and she strapped my shoulder up for the trip to the ER.”

Steve looks impressed. “So you always wanted to be a doctor, huh?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Becca says. “I take it you always wanted to be a superhero?”

Everyone laughs, including Steve. He rubs at the back of his head, a little self conscious. “No, actually. I wanted to be an artist.”

“An artist?” Bucky echoes, twisting around to look at him so quickly that his drink slops over his wrist. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs. “But you know. The impending fascist takeover over the world tends to put a damper on dreams like that.”

“That’ll do it,” Clint says. Steve’s looking serious again, his expression going closed off and guarded in that way it does when he's reminded that he's the odd man out. It happens a lot when he talks about ye olden days, like it suddenly shows the rift between him and everyone born after the Second World War. Bucky's looking at Steve with a concerned expression in place and crap, he's also noticed Steve's stumble into 'I am still vaguely depressed about being a man out of time' territory. Clint might be a terrible boyfriend but he's a good Avenger and a good friend, so he distracts everyone at the table by saying, “I used to be in the circus. Thought I’d be there forever.”

“You did not,” Bucky exclaims, loud enough that the people at the next table look over. “The _circus?!"_

Ah, fuck. Well, at least he's got everyone attention away from Steve. 

Bucky stares at Clint, less gleeful than he should be at finding out that Clint used to be in the circus. Normally people find that shit hilarious, or at least pretty interesting. Bucky looks like he's personally offended by the news. "Jesus, I told you I don't know anything about you!”

“It’s on his wikipedia page,” Jade says and then looks like she regrets it.

“I can’t just tell you everything about me in one go,” Clint protests. “Like, hey want to date me, sit and listen to my life story?”

“What's he meant to do, tell you everything on the first date?" Kevin muses, sipping at a vodka shot. "Buy you his biography? Yeah, that'd be weird bro."

“We had to fill in PR paperwork, that was weird enough,” Clint grouches.

“You should play never have I ever,” Becca says. “That’s a good way to get to know someone.”

“We are too old to play never have I ever,” Clint says, and pauses. “Aren’t we?”

Bucky grins and drains his cocktail. “We’re going to need more drinks.”

* * *

They don’t leave the bar until closing time. The scale of inebriation goes from stone cold sober despite drinking ten beers (Steve) through slightly merry (Jade) all the way to being carried home (Bucky). He’s slung over Steve’s shoulder like a duffel bag, cackling madly and still clutching a beer he'd not finished before they were given marching orders. Clint is taking the less wriggly option and carrying all of Bucky's gifts, walking beside Steve. 

The dumb game of never have I ever is the reason everyone is so drunk, but is also the reason that Bucky now knows that yes, Clint had a spandex outfit while he was in the circus; yes, he's had a boyfriend before (once) and more girlfriends than he wants to admit; yes, he's kissed Natasha before but that's only because she thought he was dying; yes, he's had to fight bad guys while naked on more than one occasion; no, contrary to popular belief, he's never eaten pizza that he found on the sidewalk. It's not all one sided: Clint now knows that no, Bucky has never had sex in a public place; yes, he had a crush on a teacher when he was in high school; yes he did have a few casual hook-ups while he was in the army; yes he's slept with a woman before; yes, he does have a huge crush on Pepper Potts. Unfortunately, he also knows more about everyone who was at the table and honestly could have gone a whole lifetime without knowing that Steve once ate a rat, or that Becca has hooked up in the on-call room at the hospital. 

He’s also worked out that Becca is an evil genius, because every time it was her go she managed to pick something that Bucky had done and had to drink to, hence his current state. 

"You should make him walk," said evil genius says from behind them. She's wearing Steve's coat and the sleeves are comically long on her. She's holding onto Jade's hand as they both weave unsteadily over the sidewalk. "Big drunk baby."

"Shut up, it's my birthday," Bucky says, trying to lift the glass to his mouth and scowling when he keeps missing, balance thrown off as Steve walks. 

"It's not your birthday for like a week," Becca waves her hand dismissively, sleeve flapping. "Steve, tell him."

"Shut up," Bucky says, sticking his tongue out and trying to lick the edge of the glass with only a modicum of success. His tongue is very distracting. Hell, most of him is pretty distracting, distracting enough that Clint keeps almost tripping as he stares at Bucky, fixated on the line of his jaw, the play of streetlight on his metal fingers, the way his hair is begging to have fingers run through it. And christ, if Bucky licks that goddamn beer glass one more time, Clint is not going to be held responsible for his actions. 

“Close your mouth, Clint,” Steve says as he strides along like he's carrying nothing more than a pillow on his shoulder. “You’re literally drooling.”

“Look at him,” Clint protests. “How the fuck do you ever get anything done at work?”

"One, because I'm the epitome of professionalism," Steve says, and how he manages it with a straight face, Clint will never know. If his hands were free he'd text Maria and tell him what Steve just said. "And two, even if I did swing that way, Bucky's not my type." 

"Why? What's wrong with me?" Bucky asks, sounding outraged. 

Steve rolls his eyes. "Want me to make a PowerPoint about it? I could stretch to fifty slides."

"Rude," Bucky says and thumps Steve on his back. "Clint, make a PowerPoint about how great I am. Slide one can be a picture of my ass."

Clint laughs. "Slide two, that thing you do with-" 

"Gah," Steve protests. "I will drop you and leave you to crawl home. Christ, why do I put up with you?" 

"I'm delightful," Bucky says, smacking Steve on the back. "And I'm literally the only person you can stand to be your PA."

Clint looks at him wistfully. “If you were my PA I would spend the whole day staring at you and asking you to lick things.”

Steve looks appalled. “Clint!”

“Like stamps, get your mind out of the gutter,” Clint says, and Bucky cackles. 

"Steve, swap." He starts wriggling in earnest so Steve obediently stops, suddenly enough that Becca and Jade almost walk right into him. They dodge around Bucky as he reaches out to balance his beer on top of a postbox, patting Steve impatiently on the head once he's done. The moment he's not in danger of having a warm beer tipped down his neck, Steve takes the gift bags from Clint and then swings Bucky around, effortlessly passing him over to Clint who takes him bridal style. 

"Christ you're heavy," Clint groans, hitching Bucky up. "Can't I piggyback you instead?" 

"I'm half metal, that's why I'm heavy," Bucky says, winding said metal arm around Clint's neck. "Becca, Becca - take a picture of me," he demands. "Becca, please."

"The light's awful," Becca says, but she's pulling out her phone anyway. "I already took like five of Steve carrying you."

"Clint, wait, wait," Bucky says. "Photoshoot! I need to put tonight on Instagram!"

"Are you kidding?" Clint protests, but he does grind to a halt as Becca darts in front of them to take a picture. 

"Hashtag thank god for Hawkeye's biceps," Becca says and Bucky bursts into peals of laughter. 

"Alright, photoshoot over," Clint says, hefting Bucky up so he's got him more securely as he starts walking. "As magnificent as my biceps are, I'm not gonna be able to carry you all the way if we keep stopping."

"I'm gonna put you on Instagram," Bucky says, tone vaguely threatening before he leans in, pressing his nose to Clint's cheekbone. “Hi,” he says, grinning.

“Hi yourself,” Clint says back. 

“This is a great birthday,” Bucky says. “This is the best.”

“You’re the best,” Clint grins, hitching him up again. “Glad you’re having fun.” 

“Mmmm,” Bucky says, and leans in to press a long, lingering kiss to Clint’s mouth. Clint laughs into it, almost stumbling. He feels a hand on his back steadying him and gently guiding him and honestly, Steve is the best bro. He needs promoting to Steve Rogers, Commander of SHIELD _and_ 10/10 bro.

“Hey, how about I take you out too,” Clint says, suddenly inspired. He glances up to make sure he's not about to walk into a lamp post. “For a present.”

“You can take me home for a present,” Bucky says, forehead pressed to Clint’s. “Take me home and do unspeakable things to me.”

“Answer the question first," Clint says. 

"Take me home," Bucky says and then his eyes go wide and he adds, "Country roads."

Before Clint can protest Becca pipes up behind him, singing "COUNTRY ROADS, TAKE ME HOME," at the sort of volume only ever achieved by the super drunk. Jade shrieks with laughter as Bucky joins in the singing. 

“TO THE PLACE, I BELOOOONG-”

"Maybe ask him when he's sober?" Steve suggests and he and Clint both wince as Bucky and Becca take the serenade up a notch. "Maybe get them home before they wake up half of Brooklyn?" 

Clint would salute if he had a hand free. "Yes, Captain."

" _Commander_."

"Whatever."

* * *

Despite Bucky’s flirting, innuendo and increasingly explicit requests for dick, by the time they get back he’s in no state for anything except being dumped into bed. Clint drops him onto the mattress in an undignified sprawl of limbs before going to tug his boots off.

“Sex now, right?” Bucky says, making no effort to move at all.

“Sure thing,” Clint says. “If you can sit up right now and get yourself undressed without help.”

Bucky cranes his neck, looking at Clint for around three seconds before letting his head fall back to the mattress. “Oh _no,_ " he says, sounding genuinely surprised. "I’m too drunk! This is your fault, you bought me five hundred drinks.”

“Brat," Clint grins. "I'll owe you one when you regain control of your limbs.” He reaches out to shake Bucky's leg. “Hey, you never answered my question about your birthday present.”

Too late. Bucky is already snoring.

* * *

Bucky is hungover and grouchy the next morning, tucked into an oversized hoodie and communicating only in grunts. Clint notices that he’s refusing to pick up things with his metal hand too, which makes him think that either it’s not just the hangover getting him down, or that it's strong enough to be having a knock-on effect on his overall wellbeing and temperament. He strongly suspects Bucky needs to go back to bed for a couple hours and then eat a thousand calories in one go. Maybe he'll order a pizza to be delivered to Bucky's later just to make sure he's okay. 

“I gotta go,” he says, leaning over to kiss Bucky’s temple. “Gotta fetch Lucky.”

“Mmn,” Bucky says, but does lean over to butt his head against Clint’s shoulder. “Call me later?”

“Course,” Clint says. “Hey, think about what I said last night, about your birthday.”

Bucky just looks at him blankly. Clint sighs internally. “About taking you somewhere?”

“I’m never going out again,” Bucky mutters, pulling his mug of coffee in towards him with both hands. “I'm never going to work again, either. Ugh, I can’t believe Jade knows more about you than I do.”

Welp, there it is. “Not true,” Clint says, smiling even though he's kind of getting concerned that Bucky won't let this one go. “She doesn’t know how I take my coffee or where my ticklish spots are.”

“Mmmmn,” Bucky says again but he’s starting to smile. “I’m going to read your wikipedia page.”

“You do that,” Clint says. “Seriously though. Birthday gifts. What do you want?”

"You don't need to get me anything," Bucky says, letting go of his coffee in order to thread his fingers through Clint's. "You're enough."

And while that's super sweet and incredibly flattering, it's also maddeningly unhelpful with less than a week to go. 

* * *

With five days to go, he's panicking. Panicking so much that he's not concentrating and is getting his ass kicked during Avengers training. He's only been up for two minutes before he finds himself slammed face-first into the mats by Thor. Aw, man. Thor is a literal god but Clint can normally hold his own for more than ninety seconds.

"That was embarrassing," Thor remarks as Nat and Tony clap from the peanut gallery over by the lockers. "Would you like me to pick you up?" 

Clint grunts a negative and manages to roll himself into his back, reaching up to check his hearing aid hasn’t been knocked loose. He blinks up at Thor's smug face. "I still don't know what to buy for Bucky."

"Maybe it's a sign," Thor says. 

"A sign?" 

"Yes, a sign that you're actually a bad boyfriend and you should probably break up with him. If I had a boyfriend and they couldn't think of anything to get me, I would break up with them."

Clint stares at him. "You are not helping."

"Sorry," Thor says, not looking it. "Maybe you should just sweep him off his feet, dazzle him with your manly physique and-" He doesn't finish the sentence before he's descending into laughter. He looks across at Nat and Tony, still laughing. "I couldn't even say it! Barton, you're hilarious."

"You suck," Clint says and peels himself off the mat, wincing. "Nat," he implores, rubbing his shoulder. "Please help."

"Oh no," she says. "As much as I love you admitting you need my help, you making a birthday into a total car crash is currently my favourite entertainment."

Tony glances at her. "You are terrifying in so many ways," he says and she smiles like she knows but is still pleased to hear it. Tony shakes his head fondly at her before turning back to Clint. "Hey, Barton, you should totally get Bucky one of these heavy blanket things that the intern was telling me about. Apparently all the cool kids have them."

"You're so old," Clint tells him. "Forget I asked, you guys all still suck."

* * *

With four days to go, Clint has bypassed panic and is instead filled with dread that sits in the pit of his stomach like curdled concrete. It's terrifying; he's not been this worried about doing right by someone since - well, for a long time. It's enough to make him consider facing the wrath of Steve Rogers and marrying Bucky on the spot. 

Some deeply buried instinct tells him that suggesting a shotgun wedding because he can't think of a birthday gift is a bad idea. For once he listens to it and instead forces himself into Manhattan to try and find something that won't cause a ruckus. He's not convinced he's going to find anything; even though he knows Bucky's tastes and is pretty confident that he can pick out clothing he'll like, he can't shake the nagging feeling that he wants something more meaningful than just the latest trend. 

He's in Zara and cursing whoever invented fashion, staring angrily at a display of hipster looking trench coats when his phone rings. It's Bucky so he picks it up. 

"Hey babe."

"Hi, I'm walking home and I'm bored. Are you in Brooklyn?" 

"No, Manhattan."

"Avengers stuff?" 

"No, actually," Clint says. "Uh, trying to find my boyfriend a birthday present stuff." 

"What?” Bucky actually sounds genuinely surprised. “I already told you, you don't need to get me anything. And Thor said you'd got me a gift already, something about sex coupons?" 

Clint is going to kill Thor. He's going to smite him with his own hammer. 

"Well yeah that's part of the standard Hawkeye birthday experience," Clint says and smiles tiredly as Bucky laughs. "But come on, you can't show those off on Instagram."

"Are you really freaking out over my birthday because you think I'll want to show gifts off on Instagram?" Bucky asks. "It's not always about showing off."

"Am I still speaking to Bucky Barnes? The guy who sulked when he lost five followers?" 

"Shut up about that, I did not sulk," Bucky argues.

"You made you sister take like a hundred photos of you when we were out for your birthday so you could put it on Instagram."

"Yeah, I know, but - look, I love Instagram, okay. I love that it’s fake and filtered because it's nice to, I don't know, have a highlight reel. Have a version of me that I'm in control of. Like, to have a record of my good stuff to look back on when it gets bad."

Clint's grudgingly impressed. "Wow, you managed to make having an Instagram sound decent and not completely narcissistic."

"It's narcissistic in a self-care kinda way," Bucky says, sounding proud.

"You millennials are deeper than you appear."

"You're almost a millennial, dumbass. Now will you come over after you’ve finished? If you're away for the weekend I want to spend the evening sitting on your dick, then watch Henry Cavill killing monsters in skintight leather."

Clint smiles, because a) he can’t wait to get out of Manhattan and b) he can’t think of a better way to spend an evening. "Yes boss. I’ll be there in an hour."

“Bring pizza,” Bucky says, and hangs up.

* * *

He's on the subway heading home when it hits him. 

The perfect gift. So perfect that future Clint will hate him for setting the bar so high. 

The moment he's out of the station and has reception, he flips his phone open and calls Nat. "Okay this time I need your help in orchestrating a gift. I've had an idea, I need help with the execution." 

Nat makes a pleased sound. "I knew you'd think of something. It's not a weighted blanket or a coffee machine, is it?" 

"What, no?" 

"Just checking," Nat says and then her voice goes distant but Clint just about hears her say, "Pay up, Stark. Twenty bucks, please."

"Wow, rude."

"Aw, Милый, I bet on you, don’t be mad. Be mad at Tony. And Sam. And Bruce."

Clint needs new friends. "Thor too I guess?" 

"No, weirdly he bet in your favour too. Now, what do you need me to do?"

Clint dodges past a slow walking couple, motivated into power-walking by his awesome idea. "First I need you to get me a freebie off Tony. Then I need you and your thumbs," Clint says, and grins as Natasha lets out a genuinely perplexed sounding, "What?" 

* * *

He meets her in a Starbucks not far from Avengers tower. She’s grabbed one of the couches at the back and is curled up reading a tattered copy of Alice in Wonderland like she's in her own home. She's in incognito mode, wearing a vintage Captain America T-shirt of all things, under a fuzzy leopard print cardigan. That, combined with the floppy felt hat makes her look like every Hipster in Brooklyn, which is admittedly a good way of blending in to the crowd.

Clint weaves his way across the shop floor and plunks himself down next to her, pulling off his beanie and trying to finger-comb his hair into submission. “Did you get it?” he asks without preamble.

"Tea first," she says without looking up. "Peppermint. Large."

Clint heaves himself back up with only a little bit of grumbling. He orders Nat's tea and a coffee for himself, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the Winter-themed monstrosities available on the festive menu. Bucky'd be all over that shit with his epic sweet tooth and love of anything special enough to take pictures of, but Clint sticks to the classics. 

"Okay," he says, setting Nat's tea down in front of her. "Your tribute." 

She closes her book and uncurls, sitting up straight so she can pick up her oversized mug in both hands. Clint plunks himself down opposite her and looks at her expectantly.

“I got it,” she says, sipping her tea but making no effort to hand over the goods.

Clint sighs. “What do I have to do to get it? Another tribute? A blood sacrifice?”

Nat smiles, an amused curl to the corner of her mouth. “You don't have to do anything,” she says and finally puts her tea down, reaching down into her oversized handbag and pulling out a small rectangular box. “Except tell me why you’ve suddenly decided to upgrade your phone after years of refusing.”

“The emojis are out of date on mine,” Clint says, reaching out with grabby hands and whining as Nat lifts the box out of reach. He catches sight of the number of the side of the box and is doubly impressed to find that not only has she wheedled a free Starkphone out of Tony, but she's wheedled a TS-X300. They're not even available for the public to buy. 

“Ah, ah, ah," Natasha says. "The truth, please.”

Clint slumps over the table but gives in pretty quickly. He’s learned that band-aid style is the best for when dealing with Natasha. “It’s part of Bucky’s birthday gift,” he says. “I couldn’t think of anything good that Steve or Becca or goddamn Booker haven’t already got him, and he’s got a bee in his bonnet about how he doesn’t know me, so I’m doing something meaningful.”

"So the phone is for him."

Clint shakes his head. "No, it's for me."

"So you can facetime him during phone sex."

"That's not meaningful, that's just a bonus," Clint says and Nat makes a contemplative 'huh,' face that Clint doesn't want to read too much into. "I need the phone to do something _for_ Bucky."

Nat stares at him for several long seconds and then slides the box across the table. Clint grabs it and tears into the box, pulling open the packaging and digging out the phone. It looks like pretty much every other smartphone out there but he knows that Tony's tech is second-to-none. Besides, he only really needs the camera and a decent internet connection. 

"Tony says it's on an Avengers plan, so your data and everything is included," she says. "He also said that this is an Avenger privilege so you're not to give it away or lose it. If you do, he'll drop you off the side of the tower, repulsor your bow, and other vague Tony-esque threats."

"Yeah, yeah," Clint says. "When do you think he's ever going to stop being an ass to try and cover up when he does something nice?"

"Never," Nat says. 

"Agreed." Clint pulls out his old flipphone and opens the Avengers chat. _'Thnx Tony you're the nicest friend ever'_

Tony texts back almost immediately saying _'i've changed my mind I want it back.'_ Sam is not far behind, with a _'what did he do????'_

Natasha pulls out her own phone as it buzzes, reading the texts and rolling her eyes. "Way to wind him up in a group chat that Steve is part of, dummy."

"Ah shit," Clint says, alarmed. He quickly texts, _'Steve do not tell Bucky anything'_. Sam immediately replies with _'WHAT DID HE DO'_ and then Steve actually deigns to drop in and reply with a ' _I feel like I want no part of this so am muting you for the next 24hours.'_ Clint barely has time to feel relieved before the ominous 'Tony Stark is typing' words reappear. Thankfully Tony's need to wind up Steve appears to trump his desire to bicker with Clint; he texts back with _'A WILD STEVE APPEARS'_ and then shows himself to be as nice as Nat and Clint know he is by adding _'secret is safe with me, Barton, though I really don't know why it has to be a secret.'_ The final text that Clint sees before he puts his phone away is Sam saying ' _TONY WHAT DID YOU DOOOOOOO'_.

Clint snort-laughs to himself, turning his attention back to the sleek black rectangle that is his new phone. It's nice, but he's not gonna lie - he's going to miss the flip-phone. He might keep it for nostalgic purposes. Or maybe let Bucky throw it off the Brooklyn bridge like he's been threatening to do since they met. That'd be an awesome gift for Bucky actually - the chance to destroy the flip phone. 

“You really like him, don’t you.”

He looks up at Nat, meeting her eyes. “Yeah," he says. "He’s like…would it be completely corny to say he’s a breath of fresh air? I dunno. He’s fun. And he’s got a good heart. But he’s not just a dumb hipster, he plays that up.”

“I know, I’ve read his file,” Nat says.

“Nat!”

“I’m looking out for you,” she says, utterly unrepentant. “And don’t tell me not to. His military record is something else and he’s got enough about him to shoot Rumlow down - I know he’s not as fluffy and harmless as he seems.”

“Part of his charm,” Clint says, turning the new phone on and watching the screen light up with a familiar Stark Industries logo. “He’s like you. Tiny, beautiful package around a soft squashy really competently dangerous centre.”

“You say the sweetest things when you’re not trying too hard,” Nat says. “Oh, while I remember, take this.”

She leans over and reaches into her ridiculous handbag again and pulls out a giftwrapped box. It's powder blue and covered in tiny spiders and Clint really has no idea where she finds this shit. More importantly, he has no idea what she's doing. “You got him a gift too?!”

“Yes, new combat boots,” she says, shoving the box into his hands. “He’s still got mine and I want them back.”

A slow smile spreads across Clint's face. “Aw, Nat. You know you could have just threatened him? Do you secretly like him?”

“I like you,” Nat says mildly, sitting back and sipping her tea. “And he’s important to you.”

“He is,” Clint confirms. “Now are you gonna help me?”

Natasha sighs like she's being put-upon in a most inconvenient way. “Only because I'm curious."

Clint grins. "You're the best."

"Of course I am. Now tell me the plan.”

* * *

Clint doesn't see Bucky on his actual birthday until he's finished work. Steve's given him a half day but Clint knows that Jade and Kevin have planned him a mini-party in the cafeteria. Apparently Booker has volunteered to bring a cake, which in Clint's opinion no-one should touch until they've seen Booker himself eat a slice. If a man can kill with a block of cheese, he can certainly kill with a cake. 

The party is obviously a hit because Bucky doesn't get to Clint's apartment until gone four, beaming and clutching several gift bags. He's got a new scarf wound around his neck and brand new sneakers on too. 

"My friends are the best," Bucky announces, dropping his bags by Clint's battered old couch. "Well, my work friends are the best. I don't know if they count as-" 

He cuts himself off with a gasp as he turns to see Lucky bounding over, tail wagging madly, _happy birthday_ adorned balloon bobbing above his head, string attached precariously to his collar. "Lucky!" he exclaims, dropping to his knees to fuss him. "Are you wishing me happy birthday?! This is the bestest birthday from the bestest boy, yes it is!"

He scrambles back to his feet and manages to convince Lucky to sit, snapping a photo of him with the balloon. "Clint, this is awesome," he says, grinning. "Thank you."

"I'm not done yet," Clint says, crouching to take the balloon off of Lucky's collar now that he's had his moment and obligatory photoshoot. 

"Did you get me something? I told you you didn't need to."

"Hmmm," Clint says noncommittally. "You gonna put that picture of Lucky on Instagram?" 

"Of course," Bucky says. "And I want to put up my new sneakers, though I'm gonna get you to take a picture of them. And my scarf! Maria got me it, she's the best. And she expedited my request for a new M82 to keep in the lock-up. Best birthday ever."

He's got his phone in hand as he talks, tapping away on the screen. Clint raises his own phone and carefully takes a picture, a simple candid of Bucky smiling down at his screen. Buck's head snaps up at the shutter sound and he gasps. 

"The flip phone is gone?!"

"The flip phone is gone," Clint confirms, trying not to grin at the look on Bucky's face. "I got a new one."

"Lemme see," Bucky says, making grabby hands towards Clint's dumb new Starkphone. "What happened to the flip phone? Did you break it? Did you finally see sense?" 

Clint lifts his phone up out of reach, which isn't hard to do seeing as he's over a foot taller than Bucky. Bucky gives him epic bitchface for that but Clint just rolls his eyes. 

"Get away from my phone and check your Instagram. Check your new followers."

Bucky frowns but is sufficiently intrigued enough that he stops trying to steal Clint's phone and focuses back on his. "Two new followers - wait, _Hawkeye?_ Is that you?!" 

"Verified," Clint says. "I have seventy thousand followers and have only had it a day and a half."

"But you hate social media," Bucky says, clearly baffled. He peers at the four photos that Clint has up, eyes flicking back and forth as he tries to take it all in. "Is that Natasha?!" 

"Start at the first post," Clint says, moving to stand behind Bucky so he can see, propping his chin atop Bucky's head. Bucky holds the phone up so they can both get a good view of Clint’s profile; there he is alright, with his blue tick and his profile picture of himself with bow in hand, grinning cockily at the camera. 

The first post is another picture of him, standing against a wall in civvies, sunglasses on and cup of coffee in hand. 

"'So here I am,'" Bucky reads the caption aloud. "'Some millennial taught me that it's nice to show off every once in a while. So, coming up, me showing off my favourite things'."

He flicks to the next post: a picture of Clint asleep in the back of a SHIELD truck with his arms wrapped around his bow. Bucky starts to laugh, reading the caption. "'My bow. Contrary to popular belief I don't have an entire room filled with bows. The few I have are extra special.' Oh my god Clint, this is great."

"Next one," Clint prompts. 

"Okay," Bucky says, tapping on the picture of Lucky. "'My buddy. He's a rescue, the best kind of dog.'" Bucky takes a moment to smile over at Lucky, who is nosing at Bucky's bags curiously. He goes back to the phone, looking at the next picture: a pair of hands holding a mug up over someone's face like they're hiding behind it. All that's visible is the top of a Captain America T-shirt and familiar red curls. "'My bestie'," he reads and cracks up laughing. "'I'd tell you who she is but then she'd have to kill you.' As if she let you put that on there, if she finds out she's going to murder you."

Clint steps back, eyes on his own phone again, surreptitiously tapping away as Bucky looks at the photo of Nat. "She helped me do it, where do you think I got the photos of me from? Hang on, there's supposed to be another one."

"There is?" 

"Done," Clint says with a final, triumphant tap on the post button. Bucky immediately refreshes the app and literally gasps out loud when he sees the picture that's just appeared. 

"'And finally, my boyfriend'," he reads, slight wobble in his voice. "'He's great. I like him for years. Happy Birthday, Bucky.’"

Clint doesn’t have time to ask him if it’s okay before he ends up with an armful of Bucky; he launches himself at Clint, jumping up so Clint has to catch him. He kisses Clint hard, arms wrapping around his neck. 

"Thank you," Bucky says fiercely. "Oh my god, you made us Instagram official."

"You like it?" 

"I love it," Bucky says, shoving at Clint until he drops him back to the floor. "Not just because you put me on your Instagram, but you listened to me."

"Course I did. You explained why it's important to you and it made sense, so you know. What's important to you is important to me."

"You're amazing," Bucky says fervently, craning up to press another kiss to Clint’s jaw. "Thank you. Wow. That's a hell of a gesture, you know."

Clint scratches the back of his head. "Too much?" 

Bucky shakes his head, pressing his palms to Clint's chest. "Perfect. Steve warned me that you'd probably either propose or get me a box of McNuggets. I'm glad it was somewhere between the two."

Clint has enough self preservation to keep the 'Steve told me I wasn't allowed to propose' comment to himself. Instead, he kisses Bucky again then nudges him towards the couch. "Go get comfy. Man of Steel is queued, I'll get beer and cake."

Bucky beams. "You're the best."

He drops onto the couch, arranging the cushions to his liking. Clint takes them a beer over and sits down next to him. He's stupid relieved that his idea went down well and now he can relax and bask in the knowledge that his boyfriend is happy.

"So, good birthday?" 

"Really good," Bucky says, but then pauses, lowering his beer. "Just one thing."

"What?" 

"Where are my coupons?" 

Clint throws his head back and laughs. "You get special birthday sex without having to redeem anything, how about that?" 

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says and settles in at Clint's side with a satisfied sigh. Clint rests his cheek on Bucky's head, closing his eyes and finally relaxing. "This is great," Bucky murmurs and then Clint's eyes snap open as he adds, "I can't wait until Christmas."


End file.
